


Mine

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, VIXX, iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, eonnie's famous crossovers, hurt/comfort?, kind of?, vague a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 16:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bobby is always mouthing off, and wonsik is always having to shut him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> this is being reposted from my lj by request.

Wonsik is always so cool and christ, sometimes Bobby can't _stand him_ for it. But there are about seven thousand reasons why he sometimes hates Wonsik, not the least of which is how fucking calm he is, sitting there, just barely cocking his eyebrow with the lightest touch of a smirk on his distractingly small mouth.

Not that he's noticing Wonsik's mouth. He's _pissed_ at him, goddamnit. He's a fucking fucktrumpet and Bobby hates him. Hates everything about him. His fucking stupid mint-blue hair and his stupid face and his stupid fucking voice and all the things it does to Bobby at all the wrong moments.

“What's wrong, Jiwonah?” he's asking, smiling like he doesn't know Bobby is pissed off, leaning forward like he's really concerned about Bobby's feelings. Fucking. Fuckstick.

“I fucking _hate you._ ” Bobby says, feeling his hackles raise when Wonsik gets up from where he's been sitting, playing cards with Taekwoon. He's taller than Bobby. Only by two centimeters but it feels like two feet when Wonsik is stalking close to him and Taekwoon is watching with detached interest. Wonsik smiles at Bobby and shoves him with both hands, using his inhuman strength to his advantage. Bobby loses balance and stumbles back, cussing when he hits the wall and sucking in a breath when Wonsik is suddenly directly in front of him, crowding his body into the cement.

“Oh really?” he asks. Bobby can almost taste the cinnamon Altoids he knows Wonsik likes, just like his cinnamon toothpaste, his cinnamon gum. It burns Bobby's tongue. “I don't think that's true.” His voice is so fucking _calm._ So _contained._ Bobby feels heat bubbling up in his chest and he shoves Wonsik back, feeling bones under skin under clothes under his hands. He wants to break them.

“I'll see myself out, Wonsikah,” Taekwoon is saying, his voice like an angel, his eyes hard like iron. Bobby has no idea what compulsed someone as warm and naturally excited as Lee Jaehwan to mate with Taekwoon. Bobby glares at him, just to remind Taekwoon that he knows he doesn't like Bobby, as he leaves. He barely hears Wonsik's cheery, _say hello to hyung for me._

“Do you always have to disrupt everything I do?” Wonsik asks, turning back to Bobby and pouting a bit, rubbing where Bobby pushed. “I was winning, too.”

“Fuck you,” Bobby snaps. “Why do you have to make an ass out of me in front of my friends?”

“You don't need my help making an ass of yourself,” Wonsik laughs in reply and Bobby starts to shake. “You do that perfectly find on your own.”

Bobby throws the first punch. He always does. He throws the punch and it hits Wonsik's shoulder because he's too fucking _fast,_ and Wonsik pushes the outside of his elbow to get space between them. Bobby's second fist comes up but Wonsik bends one leg and shoves a hand into Bobby's chest while kicking his leg back—Bobby hits the floor with a grunt and Wonsik sits on his chest, grabbing his flailing wrists and wrapping his legs around Bobbys, pinning him to the floor. Bobby's too angry to see straight and Wonsik's face just makes it worse, cool and collected, that small mouth in a frown.

“Why do you have to be like this,” Wonsik asks, sighing heavily. “I keep telling you. You can't beat me, Kim Jiwon.”

“Get _off_ of me!” Bobby tries to wrench his weight, to gain leverage. He's more physically powerful but Wonsik is more skilled than him in every way. Bobby hates him for being humble about it. Because he never shows off, never takes pride in his ability, just sits back and waits for other people to act like morons before he sweeps in to clean up and Bobby, oh god he hates it, because he does it to Bobby the most, and Bobby has to come back to the apartment they share and Bobby hates being made a fool--

“Calm _down,_ Jiwon,” Wonsik is saying. Bobby ignores his voice and struggles himself breathless, panting, staring up at Wonsik, who is cocking that goddamn eyebrow again. “Are you done?”

“Fuck you,” he says.

“Wrong,” Wonsik says, tightening his legs and therefore spreading Bobby's. Bobby hisses in pain and pulls at his wrists. Wonsik doesn't let go. It's not even that he's stronger than Bobby, it's that he's got Bobby at a disadvantage, he's fucking _cheating._ “Are you fucking _done?_ ”

“No! Fucking _get off_ me!” Bobby's chest jumps when Wonsik loosens his legs and he's suddenly free to kick and flail. Wonsik's weight is shifting and Bobby bites down on the cry of protest because he doesn't want to give Wonsik the fucking satisfaction of knowing just what his fucking face does to Bobby. But he already knows. Bobby knows that he knows. That's the worst part.

“Get off you, huh?” Wonsik asks, because he's between Bobbys legs and he's grinding his fucking hips into Bobby's hips because he knows he's welcome there no matter how much Bobby protests. “I'm not sure that's what you meant.”

“Fuck you,” Bobby is breathless, pulling at his arms and trying to squirm away from Wonsik because he's _pissed_ at him, god fucking damn it, he's _angry._ But Wonsik's weight has him trapped, curled back and folded arms and he can't get the leverage to move except from side to side and that isn't good, that isn't good because it forces his half-hard dick to rub against Wonsik, who is unapologetically hard and pushing down on him. “Fuck--”

“That's the plan,” Wonsik laughs and Bobby bucks hatefully. “Oh come on, Jiwon, stop it,” he says, bending just enough to let their mouths touch. Bobby attempts a bite to his lip and misses, getting a kiss to the eye socket instead. He freezes, because the tip of Wonsik's tongue is tracing the curve of his eyeball through his eyelid, sliding over his top lid like eyeliner and his teeth are brushing on his cheekbone and the cusp of his brow. “Stop it, Jiwon,” he breathes over wet skin and Bobby shudders. Wonsik's teeth bite the apple of his cheek, the curve of his ear and the line of his jaw. “Give up.”

“No,” Bobby pants, but it's a lost cause, because Wonsik grinds down and Bobby shouts, half in pain and half in indignation at his own enjoyment. “No. Get fucked. I _hate you._ ”

“Aw, Jiwonah, you're going to hurt my feelings,” Wonsik says, a vicious bite to the throat following his words. Bobby can feel his skin pulling, fancies he can feel his blood vessels popping. Wonsik sucks and gnaws and _pushes_ until Bobby yelps out like a bitch, hair sweaty, lips red. “You ready to stop now?” Wonsik's tongue traces over the huge black-and-blue he's just chewed into Bobby's neck and Bobby feebly claws at his arms.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and Wonsik laughs, licking from collarbone to chin, biting into Bobby's bottom lip. “St-- Wonsik _stop it._ ” He wants to stay angry. He doesn't want to give in, he doesn't want to spread his legs and let Wonsik between them, doesn't want to submit to him because it means Wonsik has won, and Bobby has lost. Again.

“I don't think you want me to stop,” Wonsik says, pressing wet-mouthed, soft kisses to Bobby's protesting lips. “Do you, Jiwon.”

“Stop,” Bobby pants, and Wonsik gives him a tender kiss, pinning both wrists with one strong hand and using the other to tip Bobby's head. Bobby looks up at him, looks up at Wonsik and whines in the face of those two brilliant, unnaturally blue eyes. “Stop it, Wonsik.”

“Stop what, Jiwon,” Wonsik asks, his kisses moving from mouth to throat, fluttering over skin while that hand smooths down Bobby's chest and back up under his shirt, cool on his warm torso. Bobby yelps in surprise, thighs tightening on either side of Wonsik's hips.

“Doing that!” Bobby shouts, bucking his hips and earning a hard roll in reward. He groans, fighting not to drop his head. This isn't about what Wonsik said to Bobby's friends anymore. This isn't about what Bobby said about Wonsik anymore. This is about the schism between the two of them that's been boiling for weeks, because Bobby had topped and Wonsik had accepted it, been pleasured with grace and now, now Bobby can't find his footing in their relationship and if what it takes is Wonsik being brutal, then-- “Fuck, stop--”

“Give it _up,_ Jiwon,” Wonsik says. His voice makes Bobby's blood boil. “You were in the wrong. Admit it.”

“I wasn't,” he pants. Wonsik narrows his eyes and Bobby spits up in his face. “I _wasn't._ ” Wonsik cracks his neck to the left and slowly gets up, holding Bobby by the front of the shirt. Bobby stumbles as he's yanked. “Let go--”

“Shut up,” Wonsik snarls, his eyes flashing as he drags Bobby down the hallway to his bedroom, still holding him by the collar. Bobby feels very small and helpless, something like a thrill zinging through his gut as Wonsik all but throws him to the bed. He tries to scramble to one side, tearing at the sheets but Wonsik grabs him by the belt and yanks him back, tugging his jeans halfway down his ass in the process. Bobby claws the bed. “Get over here, Jiwon.”

“No!” Bobby kicks back but the change in his weight distribution must give Wonsik the second he needs, because he grasps the belt with both hands and wrenches Bobby back to the edge of the bed, belt and pants around his thighs. “No, fuck you, let _go._ ”

“Hold _still._ ” Wonsik growls out and digs his nails into Bobby's lower back, ignoring his cry of pain to dig in deeper. Bobby knows he's in deep shit, now. “Don't fucking move, Kim Jiwon.” Bobby whimpers and gives a token struggle, wiggling from side to side and protesting vocally when his boxer-briefs are pulled down. Wonsik's claws drag down one cheek. Bobby swears he can smell blood.

“Wonsik--” The sound of a zipper, a belt buckle. Bobby swallows dryly and tries to get a grip on the mattress. Wonsik is only holding him down with the hand on his ass, his claws dug in deep to soft skin. Bobby pants, yelps when Wonsik's weight is settled against his own. His cock is pressed to Bobby's ass, and the hand pinning Bobby down moves to spread his cheeks with the help of the other hand. He starts to protest when Wonsik bends forward, bites his clothed shoulder.

“Get your shirt off, Jiwon.”

“Wonsik,”

“ _Now,_ Kim Jiwon. If what you want is orders, _obey them._ ”

Bobby shivers over and over, unable to stop shuddering as that voice echoes through his gut and he struggles to pull his t-shirt off with his body pinned against the edge of the bed. When his back is bare Wonsik's mouth finds his skin and bites, hard. Hard enough for Bobby to screech in pain as Wonsik grinds against his backside, tucked body to body.

“You fucking embarrass me,” he hisses, and Bobby stills. “You make a goddamned fool of yourself and you come back here, acting like a fucking spoiled child. Do I spoil you, Jiwon? Am I too fucking _soft_ on you?” Wonsik's dick drags over Jiwon's hole and Bobby whimpers, trying to hide in his shirt. Wonsik tears it away, wrenching Bobby's arms in the process. “Do I need to beat you? Treat you like the fucking bitch you are?”

“Wonsik--”

“Answer me.”

Bobby trembles all over and shakes his head in tiny little stutters. Wonsik spreads him further the uses his thumb to drag the tip of his dick against Bobby's body, scenting him, the same as he does when he rubs his neck to his cheek when they're both feeling calm and comfortable. “No,” he breathes out. Wonsik bites his shoulder blade and Bobby shouts.

“You humiliate me,” Wonsik hisses, and Bobby drops his head, hands clenched in the sheets near his shoulders. Wonsik isn't even holding him down now; Bobby could escape if he wanted to, if he thought he deserved to. “I give you everything you ask for and more and you throw it back in my goddamn face-- you make a fool of yourself and you make a fool of _me._ Do you think that's _acceptable_?”

Bobby knows it's not acceptable. Wonsik is a man of standing and respect; his reputation is as good as his actions are, and Wonsik didn't have to take Bobby in when he found him, half-starved and out of his mind. He didn't have to rehabilitate him to health, he didn't have to care for him and expect nothing in return. Bobby always wants to return that goodness. But sometimes he lapses. Sometimes, when he's so angry at being made a fool, he forgets. “You have two legs, Kim Jiwon,” Wonsik whispers in his ear. Bobby half-sobs. “Before you have four. You should learn to act like it.”

“I'm sorry.” Bobby says, clenching his hands more tightly in the sheets.

“You fucking should be.” Wonsik replies. “Get up. Get _up,_ Jiwon, _now._ ” Bobby scrabbles up onto the bed when Wonsik's weight moves. With a turn of his head he can see Wonsik's long, heavy cock against his belly and swallows; he remembers the first time Wonsik mounted him, he remembers the first time anyone comforted him after sex, or what he knew as sex. He's not scared. Just mortified with himself.

He makes a whimpering, plaintive noise when Wonsik squeezes a bottle and slippery lubricant drips down his thighs. He pants when Wonsik drags his dick to catch the spills before he starts to rub at Bobby's hole, pushing his tip against it until there's enough give for him to thrust. Bobby knows how this works, and when Wonsik pushes forward Bobby pushes back, groans loudly when Wonsik is suddenly and deeply buried. His thighs tremble and his chest heaves. “Wonsik--”

“Shut up,” Wonsik snarls. “Shut up. Don't fucking talk. Don't make a fucking sound.” It's a struggle Bobby always loses. He claps a hand over his mouth and buries his face in the mattress when Wonsik thrusts, a squirt of lubricant only barely making it hurt less. And it's not even that it hurts. It's that he can't respond to Wonsik's voice, it's that he can't tell him how good it feels, it's that he can't beg him for more, beg him to stop so he can breathe. Wonsik fucks him hard and deep until he's pulling out and pushing in with every thrust and Bobby has both hands over his mouth, his breathing so shallow he can't believe he's still conscious. Wonsik is bouncing his body and Bobby wants to cry because it's his own fault he can't say anything.

Then his arms are being twisted back and Wonsik holds him by the biceps, inhumanly strong he keeps thrusting. His dick plows into Bobby so deep their balls slap together and Bobby lets his head hang until Wonsik jerks his arms and his head falls back, instead. “You're such a stone around my neck,” he whispers. Bobby whines. “Such a fucking trial, Jiwon.” Bobby can feel the swelling start. He grits his teeth. “You're such a bitch, but I keep you. Do you know why, Kim Jiwon? Why I keep your sorry ass here with me? Ask, Jiwon. Ask me, since you want to know so badly.”

Bobby's arms ache and he's bitten his tongue and lips bloody trying to be quiet. Wonsik can't even pull out, his knot too big to do so without hurting Bobby. Bobby distantly thinks about how considerate that is as he opens his mouth. “Wh..” He grunts, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

“Because you're _mine_ ,” Wonsik snarls, biting into the swollen wound he'd made on Bobby's neck not a half hour before. He tongues the skin and Bobby cries out, his back curled too tight before Wonsik pushes him down onto the bed, hand on the back of his neck. His hips piston mercilessly. Bobby struggles to breathe as Wonsik fills him. He whimpers when Wonsik lays on top of him and then turns them onto their sides. He shivers when Wonsik lifts one of Bobby's legs over his own and spreads him open, still rocking his hips. “Touch yourself,” he growls into Bobby's bruised ear. “I want to see how much you love this, Jiwon.”

Bobby slides a hand down to his painfully hard cock and grips, tugging gently while one of Wonsik's hands fingers his ballsac. The press of his knot and the hand on his balls makes Bobby tremble his way to an orgasm, spits of semen on the bedsheets and his belly. He whimpers and Wonsik nuzzles the chewed skin of his neck, licking the bruise, the little drops of blood. Bobby jerks back and forth, legs trembling. Wonsik pulls a sheet over their bodies. Bobby feels drained and foolish as he screws up his face to hide it in the pillow under his head because now he just feels like a fucking idiot, now he just feels like he should sink into the floor and stop existing because _why_ had he been so fucking impossible, so rude, so confused, _why?_

“Kim Jiwon,” Wonsik says, his voice almost gentle in Bobby's ear. “Kim Jiwon. Are you listening to me?” Bobby nods despite his choked throat. “I don't keep you because you're my pity project. Or because I feel bad for you.” Bobby shudders defensively. Wonsik smooths his hair. “I keep you because I want you here. Because you are mine, but I am also yours. So don't go around telling people...” he trails off and Bobby has never felt so fucking foolish in his life. He knows Wonsik wants him there. He knows Wonsik cares for him. So why the fuck does he insist on running his goddamned mouth like a fucking moron, claiming the opposite is true?

“Don't tell people I'm just waiting for an excuse to get rid of you.”

“I'm sorry,” Bobby whispers, and Wonsik kisses the purple and red skin on his throat. “I'm sorry.”

“I know you are.” Wonsik says, licking small comforts against Bobby's neck and cheek and ear. “But I mean it. Don't tell people those things. I want you here, Jiwonah.”

Bobby nods and fights to turn his neck, pressing his cheek to Wonsik's jaw. Wonsik's heartbeat is steady in his ear, and Bobby remembers the snow and the cold; he remembers the first time he smelled cinnamon on Wonsik's breath, he remembers first hearing the resounding heartbeat so unlike his own staggered, murmuring one. He'd never heart a heartbeat so steady, so strong.

_I'm here. I'm here. You'll be. All right._

_You're safe. Now it's. All right._

_I'm here. I'm here. I'm here._

 

**Author's Note:**

> my favorite word in the world is fucktrumpet.


End file.
